Shattered Glass
by Jade8
Summary: The glass shattered as it hit the wall. She jumped at the sound, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to it by now
1. Broken Glass

The glass shattered as it hit the wall. She jumped at the sound, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to it by now. She frowned when she realized he had used one of the expensive glasses again. She grimaced internally, her old self coming through, hating who she had become; someone more concerned with the price of a glass than the reason for its destruction. She snapped out of her reverie, her new self regaining control. She looked up, catching his eye. They were as cold as her own, betraying no hint of the warmth they once held. For a fleeting moment, she mourned the loss of that warmth. She bent down to clean up the broken glass, as she had done many times. She wondered why his temper could not be more like his eyes, cold. They would at least save money on glassware, if nothing else. He bent down to help her clean and they picked up the small fragments of glass in silence. "I could try and have glass put back together" he said as he had said countless times before "Why bother" she said, as she always did She watched him walk away, as she had done countless times before. He looked back hoping to catch her eye. She continued to stare at the wall, silently praying for him to keep walking. Neither saw the look of pain, which for a brief second, was in the others eyes. And like so many times before, neither said what they actually wanted to, and the words hung heavy between them, pushing them that much farther apart. She sat in the big leather chair behind his desk and put her head in her hands. When had it become like this. She remembered a time when nothing was left unsaid between them. She remembered a time when they actually spoke. She remembered, once upon a time, when the price of a glass was not the running concern on her mind when her husband threw at a wall. Then again, she reminded herself, once upon a time her husband still loved her. She did not know why she stayed. After years of infidelity and betrayal, one hurt after the other, everyone that loved her thought she was crazy to stay, going back to him at the first sign of apology, defending him, saying he would change this time. Eventually they drifted apart, she unwilling to see them, knowing in her heart they were right. Slowly though, she was in fact the one who changed. She became cold, unemotional. When your heart has been broken, there really was not all that much you could feel after all. More and more she turned into a typical wife of her social circle, turning a blind eye to her husband's infidelities, accepting his platinum credit card as a replacement for his love and commitment. What once was a warm, loving relationship became one where each partner hardly knew the other. Where they could go more than a week not seeing, let alone speaking to each other, provided of course there was no social event.  
  
They played their parts magnificently. He, the successful, doting husband giving his wife anything she asks for. And she, the caring wife, concerned with the needs of her husband. Everyone saw through them, everyone knew the truth. (Mainly because they were all the same, each of them playing their roles as well, although some better than others.) She wondered how it came to be that way. How they had become everything they had once despised. How they had morphed from who they had been into who they now were. She raised her head out her hands. She looked outside and saw it was raining, melting the last few piles of snow on the ground. She walked outside, not caring about getting wet, and among the fading remnants of a long, harsh winter, for the first time in ten years, she cried. 


	2. The Beginning

She remembered their beginnings. Years later she had been embarrassed at their start, but to be fair, he had been as well. She remembered the first day she met him, how miserable he made her. Over time, her feelings towards him changed, and despite her best efforts she had to admit it, she had fallen for him. She remembered how even his scent, announcing his presence before she even saw him made her weak in the knees. Years later that mix of cologne and something which was entirely his own, still drove her wild.  
And then things got bad. He disappeared from her life, making her more miserable than his appearance. She was disappointed in herself for allowing her to get attached to something she knew could never be truly hers. But in true spirit of her heritage, she moved on with her life.  
She pushed him to the farthest reaches of her mind; only in dreams did he enter her thoughts. Her life continues, and she could say that in that time of her life she was contented with things as they were. She met others, had her heart broken once or twice, and broke a heart a time or two, herself. Things were going well, until she smelled something in the air, something she had not smelled for many years. He came up behind her, whispering in her ear, a nickname, long forgotten. She turned around and he smiled, laughed. She too smiled, hugging him, shocking him. Coffee was of course the next course of action, followed by several hours of catching up, with the promise of more days to continue. Continued discussions of the past lead to the beginning of discussions of the present. More and more time was spent together. She insisted that they remain "just friends", he agreed, but both were secretly yearned for more. The flame of passion which had ignited years earlier was quickly growing stronger, turning from a flame of passion to an inferno of desire. It amused her, as a writer, how utterly clichéd that night was. A perfect example of pathetic fallacy. A week long heat wave. Night after night of rumbling thunder, no hint of rain. He had been avoiding her all that week. The carefully set barriers he had constructed to protect himself were losing strength, growing increasingly weak by the hour. If he saw her, he did not know if he would be able to control himself, yet he could not ask her to give what he needed, was not willing to risk it, losing her once again. She had said time and time again they were friends, never giving the impression that she wanted more. But he needed more. Friendship would soon no longer be enough. He wanted her, needed her mind body and soul. She had no idea why she was going over to him, especially with the intentions she had. She wanted to go to him, ask him to be. well what she did not quite know, but this friend thing she knew was not it. She had reiterated the friend thing so often so as to protect herself from getting hurt. She had no idea if he came at all close to reciprocating her feelings, but the heat had made her restless and she needed to talk to him, to find out. She went over to his apartment. The air was heavy with the heat, the rumblings of thunder ever present. She knocked on his door, and heard a voice from within say it was open. She walked in and saw him on his balcony. He had not turned around yet; he called out and asked how much he owed. She went outside, and he turned around, money in his hand. He didn't move. He just stared at her, not believing that she was there. He took a quick few breaths trying to regain his composure, to be able to put together a coherent sentence. He was about to say something when she spoke his name. It was as simple as that. That one word, the sound of his own name, rolling of her tongue was enough to shatter and control he might have had. He had been about to ask her to leave, but the moment she opened her mouth, he knew those words were never going to be spoken. He crossed to one step between them, grabbed her and kissed her, with every trace of heat which had ever been between them. Her resolve too shattered, she kissed him back with all her yearning and desire. A crack of thunder, followed by a bolt of lightening, lighting up the whole sky, and ad they joined together in release of all their pent up frustration, heaven opened up and poured down on them. 


	3. The Beginning part two

That night changed everything. They were no longer able to deny the feelings they had tried so hard to suppress. Both were wary, though, of fully admitting the extent of feelings to the other, in the fear that, despite what happened that night, the other did wholly reciprocate. Difficult too, was concealing their fledgling relationship from those around them. Neither set of parents (or parent in her case) would approve of their progenies choice. For him, she was not really one of "them" and in her case it was because he was one of "them". He did not really mind not telling his family, as they had never really been all that close, but for her the secrecy was taking its toll. Her mother knew there was something she was not saying, but knew that this was not one of those times where she would pressure her daughter for answers. Notwithstanding these somewhat minor difficulties, the two were contented with their relationship. She found a particular joy in finding him next to her each morning. He found a distinct pleasure in the sound of his name tumbling off her lips as they made love each night. Each discovered happiness in small gestures such as these. For several months their relationship continued in that manner. While each had yet to admit their feelings, what they felt continued to grow both stronger and deeper. Both wanted to tell the other, but feared rejection, amongst other reactions.  
  
For thanksgiving, he was being forced to come home. He was unhappy at the prospect of spending an entire weekend under the same roof as his parents, but knew that he could not get out of this particular obligation. As he packed his bags, she sensed his despair. Silently she walked up behind him, slowly kissing his neck. He turned around, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on the lips. He began to stroke her back, and she leaned into him. He kissed her, and lifted her off the ground, carried her to the bed. His kisses became more urgent as desire swept over his body. She responded and matched the intensity of his kiss. He began to undress her, and softly kissed and nipped at each part of her exposed flesh. Her hands began to wander, caressing his body. The phone rang. The chauffer his mother had hired for him had arrived and was calling for him. He cursed under his breath and began to dress. She kissed him goodbye, then wandered into the bathroom, intent on taking a shower. For the entire ride home, he was plagued with various images of her beneath a stream of hot water.  
  
As the car pulled into his driveway, he looked at his childhood home and he shuddered inwardly. He did not even think it deserved the title of home. Home was supposed to be somewhere warm, happy, and full of love. This place had none of that. To him it was merely the place he happened to grow up, and where his parents still resided. A butler opened the door before he had a chance to knock. He promptly took his bags and directed him to where he could find his parents. He went to his mother first, who was entertaining some of her friends. He gave her the perfunctory kiss, and then a polite greeting to each of the women present. He then excused himself and went to his fathers study. He knocked twice on the door and was answered with a quick "enter". He opened the door and said hello to his father. His father did not respond for a few seconds, then looked up from the papers he was working on, saying that dinner was at seven and immediately looked back down at his papers, wordlessly dismissing his son. He was used to that kind of behaviour, which was typical of his father. The coldness no longer bothered him, as it had in his earlier years. He went upstairs and saw his bags already neatly unpacked, and put away. He lay down on his bed, looking at the room which looked the same as it had when he moved out almost eight years before. Being in his room brought on a flood of memories, particularly ones involving his bed (and his floor, desk, bathroom, and just about anywhere in that massive room he had once called his, if he was going to be honest with himself). He smiled and wondered what she would think of that. She would probably smack the side of his head and scold him for the arrogant jerk he had once been. He allowed himself to laugh again, knowing it was probably the last time he would smile, let alone laugh, for the rest of the weekend. Dinner was informal that evening and was therefore a quiet event, being himself and his parents. They sat around the table, in complete silence, with only the maid clearing the dished each course making any noise. His father sat there reading a paper, his mother looking over some notes about the next evening's dinner party, and he just stared off into space, wishing he could be anywhere else. The next night was a bit different. His parents put on the show of being the happy married couple, talking laughing, smiling. He didn't know why they bothered. Everyone knew the truth; almost all of the other couples were doing the same thing too. He spent most of the night pushing his food around his plate, answering any questions directed towards him. He excused himself as early as possible, going to the outside terrace, despite the cold. He grabbed a bottle of wine and sat there thinking about nothing and everything. He realized he had lost track of the time when he looked at his watch as saw he had been sitting out there for almost four hours. He let himself back inside and headed towards the stairs. He stopped in front of his fathers study when he heard his parents shouting and the sounds of glass hitting a wall. He shrugged, used to this by now, and continued towards the stairs. As he lay in bed he thought about his parents, their fighting. In his twenty four years he had grown accustomed to his parents' behaviour, be it the cold glares, full of loathing, or the screaming matches. He used to wonder why they didn't divorce if they hated each other so much. As he got older he learned the reasons why; it simply didn't suit either of their lifestyles to bother with a divorce. His mother enjoyed the status and style with which her marriage provided her, and his father saw no reason to bother with a divorce, seeing as his wife provided the necessary so-called trophy wife, while pretending (usually) to not know about his extra-marital affairs. Lying there he promised himself he would never let his marriage get to be like that of his parents. As he was packing his bags, the butler came in telling him his father required his presence before he departed. He went down to his fathers study and gave to required two knocks before being permitted to enter. His father didn't even bother to look up. He skipped any pleasantries anyone else might have started with and instead opted to simply say what he wanted. "The DAR is having a gala dinner on New Years Eve, a charity function supporting something or another.. I will have my secretary mail you information about the location and time. You are expected to be there by both your mother and myself. That is all."  
  
"Bad news kido" her mother said, "we're both being requested to attend a DAR gala dinner on New Years Eve, by your grandmother." "And by request she means we have no choice." "You've got it." They both hated that they could not be together on New Years Eve. Both were looking forward to a nice romantic night, sans family obligations. She had decided that it was best not to attend the gala together, deeming it an inappropriate time to announce them as being together. He would have like nothing better, but respected her wishes. They had fought enough times about the need for secrecy, but he decided that this time was just not worth the fight. If she was mad at him that night, she wouldn't be willing to meet up for a tryst later. She had left earlier that afternoon, intending to arrive with her mother. He drove to his parent's house a few hours later and got ready there.  
  
She didn't want to have to go. As if spending the night in the company of people she at best barely tolerated wasn't enough, seeing the countless women throw themselves at her boyfriend (albeit secret one) all night did the trick. When she and her mother arrived they walked over to her grandparents to say hello. Once that was over with she went to get a drink, intending to make excellent use of the open bar. She wandered around, champagne glass in hand, saying hello to random acquaintances. She went back to her mother and grandparents. She saw him walk in with his parents. He was immediately swarmed with a hoard of people all trying to say hello. She watched as several women greeted him in a manner which was altogether too friendly in her opinion. He shook hands with a few more people, before joining his parents in their rounds. She didn't even notice him coming her way until her mother commented on the cute guy, heading in their direction. She looked up and saw him walking towards her, and she froze. Then she saw that he was still making rounds with his parents, who were friends of her grandparents. He was introduced by her grandmother to both herself and her mother. He kissed each of their hands, but he lingered on hers for just a second longer than necessary, looking her in the eye, his dancing with mischief. She groaned inwardly, knowing he was going to enjoy making her uncomfortable to whole night 


End file.
